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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635147">words by candlelight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersrose616/pseuds/wintersrose616'>wintersrose616</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:08:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersrose616/pseuds/wintersrose616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylvain’s unused to having others visit the library this late into the night. He can’t find it in his heart to complain about this night’s other visitor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sylvain Jose Gautier/Linhardt von Hevring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>words by candlelight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>The stone hallways are only lit by candlelight, barely enough for him to walk their lengths without running face first into the walls. He keeps one hand against the stone, fingertips trailing lightly along the rough and uneven bricks as he follows a pathway that’s ingrained deeply in his mind, as familiar as it had been five years prior.</p>
<p>Sylvain had always found the library most appealing at night. It had been easier, back in their school days, to sneak in when there were no prying eyes to see what he searches for, no soft whispers as he attempted to play aloof while sitting beside any of the others while they studied.</p>
<p>Now, the library stands empty, only a small candle at the door lit. He’s certain whichever monk or nun tended to these halls thought no one would attempt to use it in the middle of the night. There’ve only been a few people in the main army Sylvain has heard talk about the library—it mostly goes unused by them. There’s too many war councils and battle strategies to pour over for any of them to find themselves at the library in their blessedly brief free time. </p>
<p>Which is why now, in the middle of the night, with the moon shining brightly through the windows, is the perfect time for Sylvain to sneak inside.</p>
<p>He takes the candle holder from the doorway as he steps inside, carrying the light to a far table to light the other candles atop it. He strips his cloak off, leaving it draped neatly over the back of a chair before he gathers the holder again and goes on his search.</p>
<p>There’s a few key choices for tonight’s reading, mostly the books that the Church has on Srengi History. It’s not the first time he’s dedicated his time trying to parse through the language and the Church’s butchered translations, and he knows it won’t be the last.</p>
<p>Sylvain has no true idea how long he stays, hunched over the table, reading page after page. He sits back after what feels like an hour, could have been more, based on how his shoulders pop when he stretches his arms over his head. He lifts the reading glasses perched on his nose, rubbing against the bridge before settling them back down.</p>
<p>He rises from his chair, collecting books to return them to their homes on the shelves. He’s just gotten to the first shelf when the library door creaks open. Sylvain jolts, startled, but the person who walks in is one Sylvain isn’t upset about. One he’s not expecting, sure, but a welcomed face, lit only by the chamberstick they’re carrying. </p>
<p>Regardless, Sylvain still freezes as Linhardt walks in, his eyes lazily sweeping across the library. They pause on the lit candle at the table before they move over, finding him where he stands near the shelves, books still held to his chest. </p>
<p>“Oh, Sylvain.” Linhardt tilts his head. “You’re here for some late night reading as well?” </p>
<p>It’s the middle of the night. Sylvain’s heart leaps in his chest, throat closing as his mouth opens and closes, trying his hardest to form any type of human speech. His brain screams at him, telling him not to overreact, to play it <em> cool </em>, collected, while he stands there like a deer being faced down by a hunter.</p>
<p>He manages to speak, but his words come out a squeak. “Y-yeah! Yeah, I am!”</p>
<p>Linhardt hums. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.</p>
<p>Sylvain barely stops himself from smacking his face as he hastily reaches up, his fingers landing on the frame to idly adjust where they rest on his nose. “They’re—they’re mostly for reading.”</p>
<p>“Interesting.” Linhardt smiles, just slightly, a slow, lazy curl of his lips that has Sylvain stuck in place, trying to will the heat rushing to his face away. </p>
<p>He ends up laughing nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah-ha, yeah, I guess so. But don’t let me interrupt your reading! I’ll just be. . .over there. Reading. After I put these back.” He lifts the books still in his arms, and turns abruptly on his heel, only barely catching a glimpse of the amused curl of Linhardt’s lips, that he figures is the shadows playing tricks on him.  </p>
<p>He chances a glance back towards the table when he hears the soft scrape of a chair and he startles slightly at the sight of Linhardt settling at the table Sylvain’s claimed, sitting across from the stacks of books he has scattered on the tabletop. Linhardt looks over as he sits, and when he meets Sylvain’s gaze, there’s no chance of him mistaking the smile on his face as anything else. </p>
<p>Especially when he stretches over the tabletop, tugging Sylvain’s cloak from the back of his chair. He settles back down, wrapping the cloak about his shoulders, still smiling that small, feline smirk as he looks back to his books. </p>
<p>Sylvain has a feeling that he won’t be able to get anymore reading done as he watches the way Linhardt tucks the edges of the cloak around himself. </p>
<p>Somehow, he can’t find it in himself to mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>barrels in with another rarepair</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <br/><a href="https://twitter.com/wintersrose616">tweet tweet</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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